


Almost

by orphan_account



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alex and George being cute, Arguably its betrayal, Awkward Conversations, Confusion, Fluff and Crack, Hotel Room Invasion, Hotel Sex (implied), Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Making Out, Pierre Is Sad, Rivals, Russian Torpedo man is scary, Secret Lovers, Swearing, Too Much For Alex™, awkward boys being awkward, bad language, cursing, send your prayers to Antonio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 09:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Alex shoves the door open, immediately attaching himself right back onto George- who is now trying to remove his shirt with profound eagerness- and he feels such a dizzying, emotional haze that he almost doesn't notice the obscenely guttural moan that comes from inside his bedroom.Almost.





	Almost

**Author's Note:**

> I love both these pairings, and I thought with Max and Alex both being rather clumsy (especially after the team switch) something was bound to happen, and thus this awkward mess was born.
> 
> Please forgive any English mistakes, and please do point them out to me if they are extremely irritating.
> 
> As you could guess, don't post it anywhere else, don't copy it, don't send it to the people involved, everything is entirely fictional- let's just keep it here, and we can be awful together, yeah?
> 
> No specific race mentioned, but set post The Gasly-Albon Red Bull Switch of 2019.

Alex had no idea how he, of all people, had ended up with somebody as incredibly beautiful as George Russell, but damn if he wasn't the most thankful man on Earth for it. George was every one of Alex's romantic cliches and more- he was his Sun and moon, stars and sky, all that jazz- but what really made his heart hammer in his chest, his eyes light up with nothing but adoring love and his emotions swell, was how much George truly, truly cared. He still cared for his rivals, he cared for nature, he cared for his friends and he cared so, so much about Alex, even if Alex didn't believe him sometimes. Upon occasion, this care showed through perhaps a little too much to be deemed purely platonic by the media, but they seemed to slide by unscathed, much to their confusion and, admittedly, enjoyment.

Of course, that isn't to say it's all easy. Being a gay Formula One racing driver in a relationship is never easy, no matter how utterly oblivious people appear to be. Alex has spent countless nights worrying over what to say to the press, whether people noticed that second of slight intimate contact and even how best to walk next to George at the airport- but he knows that he would give it everything up in a heartbeat if it made George happy. Hell, he'd even give up his Red Bull seat, his place in racing altogether, just for George to be healthy, be alive, be next to him. Alex supposes that attitude could possibly be considered unhealthy by anybody who doesn't understand completely how their relationship works- how much they thrive off of one another, how much they love one another, how much they care, keeping the other okay even when they feel like they themselves are not, how much they keep each other so lovingly safe.

There are also certain other... benefits that, really, come in the job description. Not the 'Forma One Driver' job description, so to speak, more so the 'I'm dating George Russell and I have no idea how' job description. One of those certainly being, to put it quite plainly, sex. And oh my Lord, is George incredible.

He's more than a boyfriend- he's an artist. It's in moments like these that Alex truly believes that George is some God sent form of raw sexuality- although he'd never say that aloud, of course. The confidence, if it were available to him, would almost make him proudly vocalise said thoughts if it weren't so scandalous to have 'dating Big Dick Russell the Sex God' as his subtitle on next season's driver profiles. The sheer absurdity of the idea tempts him, though.

It is also in moments like these that Alex witnesses how damn incredible George is at being a stupid, shy-looking little bitch of a tease. Which is why he can't hold on any longer.

Alex is pulling George up the stairs in a panicked, horny stumble of an attempt to get to his hotel room with profound urgency. George is gripping his hand with a beautiful grin upon his beautiful, beautiful face and Alex cannot wait a moment more as he fumbles with the key to his door. George is giggling fondly at him and he does not understand when George mastered the art of seduction or even what he's actually doing, but Alex loves it and he needs some contact right now.

Alex shoves the door open, immediately attaching himself right back onto George- who is now trying to remove his shirt with profound eagerness- and he feels such a dizzying, emotional haze that he almost doesn't notice the obscenely guttural moan that comes from inside his bedroom.

Almost.

His almost embarrassingly horny demeanour quickly crumbles away, replaced now with intense curiosity. He pushes George backwards half-heartedly and turns towards the sound, his boyfriend looking confused, and then intrigued, stepping up behind Alex with raised eyebrows and running a hand through his beautiful, soft brown and, now, disheveled hair.

"Alex, wha-"

George's confusion is muted forcefully by Alex, who whacks his hand onto George's mouth absent-mindedly, focused purely on _what is even going on in there_-

And then the sound came forth once more.

Alex's curious frown morphs into the pure embodiment of disgust, which George would have laughed at if he wasn't there too, hearing the same God forsaken sounds and mirroring Alex's disgusted expression himself.

"Someone- someone is fucking in your bedroom!" George whispers in a hissing, bewildered tone, gesturing passionately with his hands, whacking Alex in the stomach and shaking his head disapprovingly at whoever was so senseless as to think it was a safe- no, scratch that, even a sane idea to be having sex in someone else's bedroom.

It's clearly too much for Alex to deal with, and all he can splutter out is an extremely confused "...what?"

A sense of silence sweeps over the hotel room, and Alex realises perhaps too late that he said that extremely loudly and he should definitely work on his volume.

Actually, he thinks, more confused than irritated, that whoever is in his bedroom should at least work on their volume, let alone their intelligence, logical thinking and, oh, maybe even their sanity. The sounds have stopped and Alex doesn't know whether to be thankful or mortified. Instead, he turns around and lies down on his back upon the floor, spread out like a starfish with a deep craving to be stabbed again and again all the way through and killed without a care, mercilessly. That'd be better than having to face this situation he'd so helpfully been placed in right now.

George walks over to stroke through Alex's hair, seemingly to calm him down, keep him settled, but deep down he knows that he too just wants to get away from the bedroom door, and along with it, the entire problem. Unfortunately, life isn't that lucky.

The door swings open to reveal a very tired and very shirtless Max Verstappen, cheeks bright, lips stained and eyes locked with George's own horrified ones.

George freezes, locked in place like an ancient, sturdy stone carving. Or, actually, maybe he was more like a terrified, electrocuted cat. Alex stirs a little, sitting up and looking at Max with a similar expression, losing all composure he'd hoped to gain from his little regroup.

"Umm..." Max begins, eyes flicking horrified between the two others, "hi?"

Alex and George don't move.

Max lets out a groan, turning his back on them and heading back into the bedroom until Alex runs- or maybe more accurately, frantically stumbles forwards and stops the door from closing, George close behind him.

"wait, don't you even-"

"Hey, Max, why-"

"...oh." both pairs of eyes widen comically as George and Alex finish their sentences at the same time.

For sat up on a pair of shaky elbows with hair askew, wrapped up in Alex's covers in a pathetic attempt to preserve some sort of modesty and eyes bulging out of their sockets is the golden boy, the Angel, Max's so called greatest rival- Charles Leclerc.

Oh fuck.

"If you couldn't go to your room... why didn't you just... I don't know, kick Seb out?" George splutters after an extremely uncomfortable silence, gesturing wildly with his hands and his eyebrows jumping and furrowing and, all in all, being a complete mess- summing up their night, really, "You would've had the whole floor!"

Max seems to find himself able to actually answer that question, albeit with a deep flush across his cheeks.

"Unfortunately I owed Gasly a favour. The Red Bull rooms are pretty nice, compared to the ones for Toro Rosso, and he was..." Max clears his throat and picks his words wisely, "a little unstable."

George purses his lips, but doesn't speak, urging Max to continue his explanation, "Well, that leaves his Toro Rosso room, but Daniil would be disrespected?" It sounds more like question when he gets it out, and Max groans before correcting himself, "he's too... scary."

"He's not that bad." George says almost defensively with a shrug, being one of the only people seemingly not intimidated by the Russian torpedo. "Anyways, you didn't answer. Why couldn't you just go to Ferrari? Seb is too nice to-"

"Seb had a previous engagement." Max interrupted, looking down at his feet and shaking his head, eyes screwed shut, "Antonio doesn't need to hear that."

Silence suspends the air in the room once more, George's interrogation, after coming to a close, deteriorating all direction he had emotionally and leaving him standing there, feeling almost numb if it weren't for Alex's arm now wrapping around his waist cautiously. George notices his boyfriend hasn't spoken since the... incident, and Max seems to notice the same thing with Charles, who breaks the choking, tar-like silence with an attempted friendly muttering.

"Hello, Alex." Charles says, meek and resigned.

Alex is awfully embarrassed all over again, and he doesn't know who for. After a few moments of his head spinning and panic and annoyance swimming around in his brain, he speaks up, although not in as much of an attempted greeting, more so a resignation from all further interaction because this is too much right now or ever.

"Come on George." Alex exhales, grasping at George's hand and leading him to the door which he wished he had never entered in through, even it it is literally into his own space. Alex just needs to be somewhere else right now.

"My room?" George raises his eyebrows.

"Your room." Is the last thing Max hears before both of the groaning and grumbling pair are out of the room and slamming the door shut. Charles hums, trying to calm Max down, and trails a finger down his arm.

"Do you think Alex will mind?"

Max flops onto his back next to Charles, resigned, and reaches out for Charles' hand.

"He'll get over it." He grumbles, giving Charles' hand a squeeze. Charles takes a moment to think, his gaze drifting and some sort of evaluation taking place in his mind before he breathes out through his nose and seems to accept that answer, a smirk now back upon his face.

Charles rolls over onto his side, before stretching over to straddle Max, his hands getting lost in Max's soft hair that's just long enough to tug on. He leans forward, breathing hotly against Max's ear, and then licks and nips at the shell.

"Well..." He says, trailing off with a melodic tone, voice tinged with arousal and Max lets out a sound that he will definitely not be admitting to later, "we'd better get back to it. Where exactly were we?"

Max can hear the smile in Charles' voice, and he can't help but grin back up at him.

**Author's Note:**

> There you go, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave kudos if you did, don't if you didn't, thank you for gracing me with your presence, and for now, that's your local $uper Kool Sainz fanboy out.


End file.
